


PSMITH LOSES AND CONQUERS

by Zoya1416



Category: Psmith - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their first time together, Psmith and Jackson lay curled up on Jackson's bed, where Mike is the victim of persiflage, again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	PSMITH LOSES AND CONQUERS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surexit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surexit/gifts).



After their first time together, Psmith and Jackson lay curled up on Jackson's bed, Mike's arm thrown protectively over Psmith. Mike was falling asleep.

Psmith was in a grand mood, and grand moods for him were made even better by badinage. Especially if he could tease someone now so dear to him.  
“Comrade Jackson. I say, Comrade Jackson, this is an extraordinary event. Not the end of my innocence, although that was the precipitating factor, not, I say, the loss of my virginity; no, that is not, while a, of course, unique experience, the extraordinary event to which I refer. This event, this state of being, is my complete incapacity to satisfactorily express my feelings. I do think you bear responsibility for this, Comrade Jackson.” He paused to see whether this stirred Mike.

Mike woke a little. What was Psmith on about now?

“I am not satisfied with this state of being, Comrade Jackson, not at all." He paused again. "Are you attending to me in the slightest, or are you always so insensitive to your fellow man as to sleep after this type of activity?”

Psmith seemed annoyed about something, so Mike mumbled, “S'rry.” 

“I should say sorry, if you cannot attend such an important matter as this in a satisfactory way.”

Mike, still mostly asleep, took in only part of Psmith's persiflage. (Although this was often true when Mike was awake, as well.) He would have thought, from Psmith's utterances a few minutes earlier, to say nothing of his shuddering physical response, that the man was as satisfied as a person could be. Well, each man was different. They would learn each other.

“Nex' time.”

“No, this congress, this admission into Venus' bower, however thrilling in the moment, will remain incomplete, unfulfilled, unrequited, until I can adequately and completely express myself.” 

Mike drowsed again.

Psmith decided to cut back some of his verbal shrubbery.

“I say, I do know exactly what I am feeling now, Comrade Jackson.” 

“Um.”

“Are you not interested in this, the experience of one who is new to physical love?”

“Um?”

“I feel cold.” 

“Col'?”

“Yes, quite cold. Could you see your way to the re-acquisition of our bedclothes?” 

Mike slitted one eye open, rolled to a sitting position, and grabbed all the bedding which had fallen on the floor. He dumped it on top of them and flopped down again.

 

“What I do not feel, however, Comrade Jackson, is what the books I have re--”

“No-ooh. Nooh boooks.”

“The books I have read, I say, which have described this passage as a transport to the lunar surface, that is, to the moon. Possibly, possibly. Here, not at all. It has missed the mark completely.”

The sudden clenching of Mike's jaw showed that he was not as asleep as he was pretending to be. This was rude in the extreme. If a man was not happy with his bedfellow, he bid the man goodnight, and that was it. He could have struck Psmith for his unkindness.

Instead, he turned away furiously, and grabbed a piece of blanket to shrug over his shoulder.

But now Psmith startled him, reaching for him, pulling him into a tight, hard clasp. His gracile arms were stronger than they looked. He dropped a kiss on Mike's neck, then nuzzled his ear. His voice was deeper than Mike had ever heard, and more rumbling. “Jackson, you silly beast. It wasn't transport to the moon, old man, but to the farthest stars.” 

Mike still had enough humor left to snort a chuckle.

“Good.”


End file.
